


Let it Snow

by AideStar



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mostly Fluff, Post-Canon, Snow, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), and he gets real cold, crowley is a snake, ok not really but like he a snek, there was a criminal lack of snek fics, very light tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20007061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AideStar/pseuds/AideStar
Summary: Crowley wasn’t exactly a young demon and he certainly wasn’t an idiot, he knew from experience that any more exposure could lead to some shit side effects. He’d lost an arm once--or rather his corporeal form had--from the cold and lack of circulation. He was confident showing up for lunch with only one arm would not go over well with his angel.However, despite Crowley’s status as certainly not an idiot and definitely over six thousand years old, Crowley was also a firm believer in self-determinism. And so, rather than take a moment’s break in a coffee shop or call Aziraphale or turn around, Crowley did the only sensible thing and just kept going.--In which it's the first snow of the year and Crowley decides he'll be making his lunch date whether he freezes to death or not.





	Let it Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I really like how this one turned out and can't wait to write more in character exploration of these two idiots in love! Please leave me a comment if you enjoyed this and take a look at my other GOmens content :) hopefully there will be more to come!

Crowley knew it would be a bad day before he even opened his eyes. He could feel it in the way his toes and fingers were numb with cold, the stiffness in his joints and heaviness of his eyelids. He knew his flat was warm enough, he knew the two comforters should be insulating, but he also knew without even looking why this wasn’t the case. When he finally opened his eyes to glare across the room the fogged window the whiteness beyond is exactly what he expected--and dreaded. Aziraphale would be overjoyed, but Crowley was just plain annoyed. The first snow of the year, and he had to get up and go out in it, damn it all.

It’s a well known fact that Crowley isn’t the festive type. He hates most holidays--although he’s rather partial to Halloween and, thanks mostly to Aziraphale, Valentine’s Day--but he hates Christmas most. What with all the annoying jingles (jingles he is no longer proud to take credit for inventing) and holly-jolly and Santa Claus, no, Crowley could do without _Christmas_. However, a lesser-known fact is that the main reason Crowley hates Christmas isn’t because of all the frills but because of the weather it lends itself to. As a cold blooded, not-quite-human not-quite-reptilian being, Crowley found it increasingly difficult to extricate himself from bed as it got colder. It wasn’t enough to cause issues normally, but it was absolutely infuriating how difficult it was to get up and ready on this particular day.

You see, Crowley had left Aziraphale’s place last night with the promise to meet up for lunch that afternoon, and it was already nearing noon when he woke. Instead of feeling rested and ready to go Crowley dragged his feet around his flat, aching and cold and absolutely pissed. He refused to let the weather get the better of him, tugging on his warmest layers and glaring out the window as children danced in the flurrying snow. Normally on a day like this Crowley would have slept, waiting for a cold rain to wash away the freeze before he went out again. Normally he wouldn’t be doing a lot of things though, and he was quite happy to be spending so much time with his angel, so come Hell or high water he would be going out to lunch this afternoon.

He sat on his couch thinking just this for the umpteenth time--definitely not psyching himself up--when his phone rang. Crowley already knew who it was when he picked up.

“Hey, Angel. Couldn’t wait another few minutes to hear my voice, huh?” Crowley teased, feeling his heart flutter at the laugh he received.

“I just wanted to call to make sure we were still on for this afternoon, dear.” Aziraphale said. “The weather is, as they say, quite frightful out there today!”

Crowley felt the corners of his lips turn up, a sigh leaving him. “Angel, it’ll take quite a bit more than some flurries to deter me from seeing you today.”

“Ah, alright!” Aziraphale sounded relieved, and Crowley wondered what kind of response he’d been bracing for. “I suppose I’ll see you soon then?”

“I’m heading over as soon as I hang up.” Crowley promised, already feeling warmer with the prospect of seeing Aziraphale soon.

“Well, in that case.” Aziraphale said, and Crowley heard a click as the angel hung up. He stared at the receiver for a moment, dumbfounded, then laughed. Things had certainly changed in the months since the Apocawasn’t, his angel’s sense of humor being one of them.

With newfound determination Crowley bundled up for the cold, scarf and gloves and jacket all managing to look sharp while keeping him warm. He locked up and made his way to the street level, peering out the doors there and steeling himself for the frigid air. He sucked in a deep breath and stepped out, deciding that any more stalling would result in second thoughts.

It was just as bad as it looked, except in fact it was much worse because you can’t see wind chill. Crowley was instantly surrounded by freezing air, buffeted by harsh winds, and, much to his horror, coated slowly in snowflakes. He forced his steadily locking knees to move him forward, cursing every single thing he could think to curse as the snow and the wind and the cold wrapped around him. The first few blocks were made quickly and with fervor, the next few with more curses, one more by sheer force of will, but he was still a few blocks away when he found himself locking up for real.

Crowley didn’t really shiver, not for warmth at least, so as the cold seeped into his bones the only way to ward it off was with something external. Where his coats and layers would be more than enough to protect a human, Crowley couldn’t hold onto heat well enough, nor could he generate it, and so it slowly evaporated. His fingers and toes were already numb when he woke up, but now they burned. His face and arms and legs were all but gone for what he could feel of them, and with more fear than annoyance he could feel his heart begin to slow. Crowley wasn’t exactly a young demon and he certainly wasn’t an idiot, he knew from experience that any more exposure could lead to some shit side effects. He’d lost an arm once--or rather his corporeal form had--from the cold and lack of circulation. He was confident showing up for lunch with only one arm would not go over well with his angel.

However, despite Crowley’s status as certainly not an idiot and definitely over six thousand years old, Crowley was also a firm believer in self-determinism. And so, rather than take a moment’s break in a coffee shop or call Aziraphale or turn around, Crowley did the only sensible thing and just kept going. Normally a decision like this would have a ripple effect (one that Crowley didn't much take notice of) and thus allow the demon to pull off impossible feats such as driving through an impassable ring of fire and continuing to drive his blazing car. Unfortunately for Crowley his powers were also being slowly quieted by the weight the cold put on his mind. After another block of slow movement Crowley could feel the cold leeching at his senses, making his eyelids heavy and disrupting his thoughts.

His eyes slipped closed but he quickly blinked them back open. The flurries had turned into real snowfall by now, heavy flakes landing in Crowley’s hair and on his clothes. He nearly slipped on a patch of ice and huffed tiredly, gazing ahead. He couldn’t make out the street sign nearest him but he knew he wasn’t near enough to Aziraphale’s for it to matter. He ducked into an alley and leaned heavily on a wall, watching his breaths dissolve in the frigid air. He tried to move his arm, reach into his pocket and pull out his phone, but his fingers wouldn’t even twitch. It would’ve been more alarming if he wasn’t so tired. He slid down the wall, legs pressed against his chest as he leaned his head on his knees. Just a few minutes of rest would be fine, and then he could get up and keep walking. He just needed to preserve the little body heat he had left.

When his eyes opened again, this time cold as well as heavy, he wasn’t sure for a moment what had woken him up. He looked up and tried to find a disturbance, his muscles stiff and mind slow. Luckily he heard it again, the sound of a very familiar voice calling his name. With a start he realized the severity of his situation again and shot to his feet, body protesting the movement. He stumbled onto the main street, looking every which way for Aziraphale, and saw him at the end of the block. Crowley forced himself forward, trying to force his vocal cords into working, and the angel caught sight of him when he managed a small grunt.

Aziraphale looked relieved, then quite worried, and quickly rushed over to Crowley. The angel grabbed his arm, looking up at him with concern that apparently the demon’s appearance didn’t help to alleviate. Crowley tried to smile reassuringly, but most of his face was both covered in his scarf and too cold to feel, so he hoped something translated through his eyes.

“Oh dear, you must be frozen half to death.” Aziraphale frowned, then wrapped Crowley in a tight and surprisingly warm hug. Crowley hummed in surprise but quickly buried his face in the angel’s neck.

“Half to death implies a lil’ snow can kill me..” Crowley mumbles, words sticking to each other. Aziraphale shakes his head, moving away slightly to support Crowley’s weight.

“We need to get you home immediately.” Aziraphale states, squeezing Crowley to him. “I’m going to miracle us there, so try to hold on.”

Crowley managed to wrap his arms around the angel’s shoulders and within a blink they’re standing in Aziraphale’s back room. A fire crackles in the fireplace, blankets draped over the back of the couch and steaming tea on the table indicating just how prepared Aziraphale had gotten for this situation. If Crowley could feel his face he’d comment on the scene, but decided to remain silent as the angel slowly eased him back into the couch. Aziraphale eased him out of his snow-damp jacket and shoes, pushing him back to lie out on the couch. The angel untangled the scarf from Crowley’s neck, eyes pinching in concern, before he began wrapping him up in blankets.

After a few moments of swaddling and shushing and lingering in worry, Aziraphale sat on the couch by Crowley’s feet, sighing. There was a beat of silence where the demon considered not saying anything, but then he cleared his throat and decided better.

“Um… Angel?” Crowley started, feeling altogether foolish. “I… Thank you.” he stared up at the ceiling rather than meet the gaze he knew would be trained on him. “You just got me out of quite the situation.”

“Crowley, my dear, there’s no need to thank me.” Aziraphale sighed, hand coming to rest on Crowley’s knee. “I just wish I hadn’t let you go out in that storm.”

“‘S not your fault, angel. I knew better.” Crowley huffed. “I haven’t tried to brave the snow in a long time, thought I might be more, I don’t know, resistant now? We saved the world, I drove my Bently through a wall of fire, and here I am, nearly frozen and wrapped up on your couch because of a little _snow!_ It’s pathetic.”

“Darling, you are not pathetic. You are strong and brave and absolutely dashing. However, you’re perhaps just a little bit more snakey than you’d like to admit.” Aziraphale laughed, and Crowley looked down to see a look so warm and loving he had to look away quickly again.

“So, what’s with all this prep then? Blankets and tea and all. Been reading my diary?” Crowley managed, thankful he was still too cold to blush. Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to look embarrassed, pouting back at him.

“If you must know, I’ve been paying attention over the centuries! I know quite a bit about you,” Aziraphale stated, the tips of his ears red. “And I may have picked up some books about snakes recently, but really, how else was I supposed to know--”

“You’ve been reading books about snakes! To learn about _me?_ ” Crowley cried, wiggling around and trying to look intimidating. The action just made Aziraphale giggle, which only served to work up Crowley more.

“I can’t believe this! I’m a terrifying, powerful, bloodthirsty demon, I should have you know, not some cute garden snake!” Crowley continued, only to be met with more laughter. Crowley couldn’t help the smile that came to his lips, unable to keep his false agitation going with the angel acting so genuine.

The two spent a few hours talking, laughing, and sitting in comfortable silence as the fire crackled nearby. Crowley warmed up eventually, even his fingers and toes unfreezing with time, and he took to staring as the angel from across the couch. Aziraphale was reading a small book, glasses perched on his nose, but Crowley could tell he was having difficulty paying attention with the way he rarely turned the page. Crowley sat up more, deciding he’d start watching more intently to see what would happen. After a few moments that saw a blush slowly spreading on Aziraphale’s cheeks the angel sighed, leaned back into the couch more, and began to hum.

Crowley edged towards the angel slowly, a smirk playing on his lips as he came to settle up against his side. He rested his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder, feeling the vibration as the angel hummed that one Christmas song, sighing as an arm was wrapped around him.

“Oh, the weather outside is frightful,” Aziraphale sang softly, the sound both beautiful and rusty in a way that betrayed the rarity with which he sang. “But the fire is so delightful…”

“Cheeky.” Crowley laughed, pressing a kiss to Aziraphale’s cheek.

“And since we’ve no place to go,”

“Really? No place, huh?”

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

“You do know that when you say ‘let it’ you are willing it so, don’t you?” Crowley said, fingers playing with the soft hair at Aziraphale’s neck. “Do you intend to trap me here?”

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale smiles, turning his head and capturing Crowley’s lips in a soft kiss. “You will stay, won’t you?”

“Haven’t got much choice now, do I?” Crowley chuckles, pulling Aziraphale down for another kiss.

Outside the snow continues to fall, turning the whole of London into a beautiful frozen wonderland. Though Crowley will never admit it, he does quite enjoy this time of year. Not for the festivities or the cold or the snow, but because when Aziraphale looks out the windows and smiles and gushes about the holidays it makes him feel just wonderful. If Christmas and all this nonsense makes his angel happy, he can’t see much point in hating it all. If Aziraphale likes it, it can’t be all that bad.


End file.
